Change Becomes Me
by Sylk Mai'Kiali
Summary: This is the autobiography of the legendary Sylk Mai'Kiali.  Don't know who I am?  Read...
1. Introduction

Intro

Sure, I've seen a lot of things. I've even been a lot of things. But nothing really prepares you for the moment of your death. It looms heavily over you, waiting for you to take your last breath. At this point, death would almost seem a welcome friend. I know that people go through hard times, but my life has been one kick in the face after the next. If you're reading this now, it means that I am dead. Or that I cleverly escaped and am comfortably sipping an ale in a backwater village. But I'm probably dead. I know I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me explain.

My name is Sylk. Sylk Mai'Kiali to be precise. I'm part of everything and all of nothing. But hey, when you're a wandering soul such as I, what more can you expect? I was born in a decent sized elven village called Kithkara in the middle of the Starsong Woods. You've never heard of it, but what good is a secret village if everyone knows about it? It was supposed to be the most secure place in all of Syrethia. But it wasn't as simple as that. Now let me take you back to a time before the violence engulfed the world. I know that sounds corny, but I'm the one telling the story. So deal with it.

"Dezerea, how do you possibly afford the silk to make these fine clothes?" cooed Silva over a beautifully woven dress that Dezerea had for sale that balmy autumn. "Try as I may, I can never achieve what you have."

"It takes patience, a steady hand, and just a pinch of street smarts to deal with fabric traders these days," Dezerea replied, none too modestly.

Dezerea could have easily charmed the merchants with her looks, were it not for her shrewd mind for business. Standing just over five feet tall, she was beautiful. Even by elven standards. Her golden hair shimmered like gossamer where it touched her delicate and fair skin. Her green eyes seemed to see straight into the truth of things, as was often the case.

"I swear, it's like you're a different person when your talking to them," Silva admired.

"Nope, just plain old me."

"You know that there is nothing plain or old about you. You'll have to share your secret one of these days."

"Maybe. But until then, it's one gold two for the dress."

"I couldn't possibly pay more than nine silver five. Alvorn would have my head!" Silva cried in despair.

"I can go one gold flat but that's as low as it gets. Besides, as the elder of the village, he can spare that paltry sum to have his wife dressed in such an elegant gown," Dezerea replied, trying to calm the other woman but still make the sale.

"Okay. You're right! Besides," Silva started with a fire glowing in her eyes, "he owes me a gift from this past Yule."

"You're absolutely right. You deserve this dress. And after labor and tax, that comes out to one gold two."

Silva handed over the money, not realizing that Dezerea had gotten the full sum she had originally asked for. But that is what happens when you're dealing with a doppelganger. They have a nasty habit of reading other peoples minds. Dezerea would never cheat these people she had grown so fond of, but someone had to pay for the food, clothing, and shelter.

Dezerea had come to Kithkara on the run from her past. A run-in with a monster hunter had her living in terror in Boz, a city on the eastern coast of the continent. So she settled in and made a life for herself in the quaint elven village.

Something else you should know about doppelgangers; in their true form, they have no gender. As this particular doppelganger had settled in this particular form, I will acknowledge her desire to be known as the elven woman Dezerea. So try to keep up. This is where it gets really confusing.

As Dezerea was packing up her cart and preparing for her trek to her home just on the outskirts of the village, she heard the screams. The screaming was coming from the tavern on the other side of the square. The Glade was a quiet tavern, so it didn't make any sense for screaming to be coming from anywhere near it. Being an able bodied warrior, she went over to investigate. When she got ten feet away from the door, Gladrielle, the innkeeper, burst out.

"It's a raid! Save the children!" she called, rushing past Dezerea.

A few moments later, a human man wrapped in furs came out of the tavern, wielding a torch. Then more and more men were ravaging through the village. Looting and burning everything in their sight, they herded the women towards the middle of town, killing any men they found.

When the entire village was smoking and it seemed that all of the villagers were either dead or in the square, one of the fur-clad men stepped forward.

He was the most handsome of the men, and through the furs and armor he wore, one could see the scars from the numerous battles he had been in. He was nearly seven feet tall and had a full head of shaggy blonde hair. His skin was tanned, making his electric blue eyes seem to glow with an eerie light. He bore a tattoo of the paw of what seemed to be a large cat on his left cheek. With a mocking tone, he addressed the huddled crowd.

"My name is Gresk Lion's Paw. My men and I thank you for your… hospitality," he said with a sneer, earning a devious chuckle from the other men. "We have traveled far and need supplies. We will take what we need and you'll not interfere, lest you end up like those whom we have already dealt with. Cooperate and none of you shall be harmed. That is, except for the wench who will be entertaining me while my men gather supplies.

Suddenly cursing the fact that she could appear as beautiful as she did, but not wanting to blow her cover and be shunned by yet another group of people she had grown fond of, she remained in her form and tried to avoid the hungry gaze of Gresk Lion's Paw. It was too late.

"You. Yes, the one in the blue dress. Come forward," he ordered.

She did as he asked, careful not to reveal her face by looking directly at him. Once she had reached him, he grabbed her by the chin, jerking her face up.

"You'll do nicely," he said, touching her in a crude manner. "If you do as I say, none of the others will be hurt. If you resist, there will be nobody to help them. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good, now what is your name so I can know what to call you when I regale my men with this story around the fire?"

"My name is Dezerea Mai'Kiali," she replied, a determined look on her face.

With that, he ripped her clothes off and took her. In the middle of the square. In front of the gathered crowd.

True to his word, he tried to make sure that none of the other women were harmed. One of them was, but I'm getting ahead of myself again. Long story short, that's how I was conceived. Quite a love story, isn't it? Boy meets girl. Boy burns girl's village. Girl has boy's illegitimate son. The end. In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm half human half doppelganger. That makes me a changeling. It really sucks to have to hide who you are because so many people want to kill you or harvest you for magical components. But I've survived. Now I'm finally going to tell my story. It's full of love, loss, betrayal, gnomes, elves, dog people, magic… You get the idea. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. This is Sylk and this is real.


	2. Chapter 1

After spending years learning to control my shape changing, my mother decided that I was finally ready to go out and socialize with the villagers. To this day, I think it was more about the fact that they knew that she had given birth to a child but for some reason they had never met me. A shape changer has to keep their cover story straight, you know.

As I had said before, one other woman was "harmed" during the raid upon Kithkara. Her name was Selaria Elifel, and she, too, bore a half human child.

During my first visit to the village, I came upon a spot where the elven children could often be found playing; a patch of wildflowers on the eastern edge of town, just between my home and the village proper. They chose to play here because of the natural beauty of the place (and the fact that it was far removed from the daily dealings of the adults). I walked over in the guise of a half elven child, as my mother had taught me. They were huddled around something, but one of them saw my approach.

"Look, Valerian, another impure blood," laughed the eldest of the children.

"Yeah, Kailen, we should show him what we do to his kind around here!" sneered, presumably, Valerian. He appeared to be a miniature henchman to the eldest.

They group of children parted to reveal a figure huddled on the ground. It was a half elven child, beaten and bruised.

"I'm telling the elders!" I screamed before taking off into the woods, towards town.

"Let's get him! Teach him to mess with us!" the other children screamed. They began to chase after me.

I found a hollow, fallen tree and hid inside of it. Then I began to change. This one would be a little more difficult, because I was trying to impersonate the elder, Alvorn, someone twice my size. I figured they wouldn't realize a slight difference in height, so I stopped at a comfortable size.

When I emerged from the brush, I stood waiting; trying not to laugh at the looks on their faces as they ran upon the village elder.

"What is going on here?" I asked with an officious tone.

"Nothing," replied Kailen, "We were just playing."

"That is not the story that I heard. As an elf, you should realize that all life is beautiful," I lectured. "If I hear again that you have threatened or injured the half human children, I will be forced to banish you to the caves beneath the city," I said with a grave face. All of the children "knew" about the monster filled caves beneath the village. The fear on their faces nearly made me cry out with laughter.

"WE"RE SORRY! PLEASE NO!" the children cried together. "We promise we won't hurt them anymore, just please don't banish us!"

"Ok, I will forgive you this time," I explained. "But one more offense and you're out of here."

I cursed myself silently for using such childish language as Alvorn would never say anything of the kind.

"Thank you!" they sang out, running towards their respective homes.

When they were out of sight, I changed back into myself and ran back to the clearing to help the other child. He was just rising to his feet when I approached.

"Thank you," he said, clearing the tears from his eyes. "My name is Maliel Elifel, what's yours?"

"I am Sylk Mai'Kiali," I replied, helping him brush the dirt off of himself.

"I have some lunch hidden near here, would you like to share it with me?" he offered.

And so we ate. When we were finished eating, we played. It continued in this way for our formative years, each of us a pariah because the other children couldn't pick on us, but they still wouldn't include us in anything.

It was during our nineteenth summer that we fell victim to the longing stirring within our hearts.

We were practicing our fencing when Maliel made a sudden lunge. It sent him off balance and he fell into my arms. He stayed there for a long moment. We stared into each other's eyes, silent.

Then he kissed me.

We rolled in the grass; holding, kissing, caressing.

We knew that each of us felt the same way for the other, but we kept our love a secret. We met more often than we ever had, professing our loves in the sanctity of our grove. We spent two years like this before I knew I had to tell him my dark secret.

It was the week of Yule. We met, as usual, in our hidden sanctuary and exchanged our gifts. He knew of my specialized "training" under my mother and brought me a master worked set of thieves tools. I brought him a black cloak of the finest make my mother had, embroidered with his name. We kissed and began to talk.

"Maliel," I started, tears beginning to well in my eyes. "I have something to tell you…"

"What is it?" he quietly asked, expecting one of our little games.

"I have a secret. A secret I have never told you. Or anyone in the village for that matter. You have to promise me that you wont tell anyone."

"Of course," he said, worry beginning to show in his expression.

"Just know that I am Sylk Mai'Kiali. I am the same person you know and love, no matter what I look like. This doesn't change anything. I love you."

"What is it?"

Then I changed into him. A slow change, but with every feature I saw confusion grow into terror on his face.

"I am a changeling. The product of a doppelganger and a human," I tried to explain.

But it was too late. He ran, screaming.

I left that grove, intending to leave town forever the next day, my heart broken and my life in pieces.

I returned the next day with the intent of leaving the thieves tools with a note explaining where I was going. To my surprise, I found a note tied with a red ribbon. I opened it.

S,

I don't care about anything other than being with you. We can overcome any obstacles together. I'm going to ask the elders that we be hand fasted on Yule. Then we can go adventuring together. I know how you always say that you want to get out of this town eventually. I will meet you at the home of the elders at dinner time.

All my love,

M

Tears streamed from my eyes like the ever running waters of the rivers on the Godplanes. I realized that it was almost dinner time, and began to make my way to the village.

That's when I heard the screams…


	3. Chapter 2

I have said before that Kithkara was a hidden village. Screams of this sort didn't happen every day. I quickened my pace to reach the center of town; the home of the elders. I just knew that something was happening to Maliel.

I reached the outskirts of town and made my way down the center road. I saw men clad in fur pulling people out of their homes. I knew that I should have helped them, but we were not a defenseless people. Most of the town was well trained in military matters. Besides, I had larger concerns on my mind.

I came into view of the town center just in time to see a familiar woman being pushed off of the sword of one of the men clad in fur. She was Selaria Elifel. Recognition slowly dawned on me as to the identity of the man.

He was a giant of a man at nearly seven feet tall. He had tan skin and blonde hair. His piercing blue eyes were full of cruelty and the mocking sneer he wore wrinkled the tattoo on his cheek. This man was Gresk Lion's Paw. This man was my father.

Maliel was standing on the fringes of the main square of town, a look on his face showing agony, hatred, sorrow, and rage all at once.

Not many people have had the misfortune of being in a situation when a simple sound breaks your heart and sets your hair on end at the same time. When you hear the sound, you know what it is. Until you have heard it, you cannot possibly know the anguish it carries.

Maliel let out a blood-curdling scream at the death of his mother. He drew his fencing sword and lunged at the large man. But, true to form, he made one fatal misstep. The misstep which on a happier day would have sent him safely into my loving and waiting arms sent him now to his death.

Gresk turned just in time and caught Maliel on the point of his sword, the momentum of the lunge carrying Maliel fully to the hilt.

Time seemed to stop. Try as I might I can never erase the image from my head. Maliel wearing a blank expression. Gresk laughing heartily, as if it were some game. The sword piercing Maliel's neck. The weight of his body being fully supported by the cold steel.

All thought left me as I entered a blood thirsty frenzy. I charged forward, plunging my rapier into Gresk. He was caught unaware. He jerked his sword free from the only person with whom I had ever shared myself, Maliel's body and head landing separately on the blood soaked ground. I started thrusting violently, missing more than half of my attacks, Gresk parrying more than half of those which would have landed. It didn't matter that my form was sloppy. All that mattered was that this man, my father, died for the pain he caused to me and the people I cared about.

"Gresk Lion's Paw!" I screamed. "You will pay for the havoc you have wrought on this world! Prepare to die by the hands of your son!"

Then I changed into my true form, not caring about what the villagers looking on thought. I would show this man what he had created, and then I would kill him.

I was beginning to think more clearly, looking for the opening which would reveal the single spot that everybody has. The spot my mother had taught me to look for. The weakness. I was about to strike out at his throat when he caught me with a full powered stab, just below my ribcage. I felt the life leaving me. Everything was growing cold and dark when I heard a bestial roar. I felt myself being lifted bodily by something gigantic. I was being carried through the woods when I blacked out.

I woke up in my bed, with a terrible pain where I had been run through. Gladrielle, the owner of The Glade, was standing over me with a look of worry. When she realized that I was awakening, the worry turned to joy.

"Thank the Gods you're awake!" she said, bringing over a cup full of water. "Drink this, it will help."

I took the cup form her and as I began to drink the water, I realized that the hands holding the cup were the gray hands of a changeling, not the fair hands of a half-elf.

I quickly tried to change my shape, but that caused a spasm of pain, so I stopped and reverted to my true form.

"You mustn't try to change in your condition," she whispered soothingly. "I know all about you and your mother, as does the rest of the village now. You are heroes! You chased away the barbarians!"

"They've left? Where is my mother?" I asked, growing more and more worried.

It was then that Gladrielle told me about what had happened after I had been run through.

My mother, seeing me dying, cast off her elven form and took the shape of a giant she-bear. She carefully plucked me away from the battle and took me off to our home on the outskirts of the village. Gladrielle, seeing my need and being the only person with whom my mother had shared her secret, ran after her to tend to me.

Dezerea hurried back through the forest to meet Gresk's challenge. Without giving him time to respond to the fact that he was being charged by a giant bear, my mother plowed into him, digging her ferocious claws into his face.

He responded with a primal scream. The scream was so raw and feral that it caused most of the villagers present to cower, unable to run. He seemed to grow in size. He hacked away, leaving all thought behind himself. He managed to take large chunks of my mother's flesh with his frenzied actions, but she wouldn't give up so easily. She put her full size on top of him, pinning him to the ground and began to bite at his sword arm. One of her bites nearly caused it to sever from his body, but he was quick to recover, feeling no pain in his enraged state. He plunged his sword through the bottom of my mother's head and up into her brain. It came out the top, sending splinters of skull flying.

Gresk pushed Dezerea's dead body off of himself and ran to the nearest villager, killing wantonly. His men joined in, slaughtering anybody they saw.

When no more villagers could be found, they set fire to the buildings and spirited Gresk away to be healed.

The elves who had been hiding in the woods, fearful of receiving the same fate, sprang into action. They began to put out the fires and assist the living. The people of the village salvaged as much as they could, but it was too late for many of the people and even the buildings.

"I have to hurry!" I exclaimed, "He can't have gotten far!"

"You've been asleep for two days," Gladrielle explained, "You received quite a nasty injury."

"Where is my mother's body?" I asked, tearing up.

"She has been given the elves most honorable burial in the cemetery of our elders," Gladrielle said, trying to sooth me.

I got up to go and pay my respects to my mother, Gladrielle advising me to rest.

I made my way to the cemetery of the elders, first stopping in the more common graveyard to see the grave of Maliel. It had no headstone, but I saw a fresh patch of earth with a black cloak draped over it. I knew it instantly to be the one I had given him for Yule. I took it and left a pile of stones in the shape of a heart in it's place.

I went on to pay my respects to my mother. On her grave, I found a beautiful statue of a doppelganger holding a half elven baby.

"I swear by any god who may be listening, I shall avenge your death!" I screamed, hugging the statue.

I returned home and packed up everything I thought I would need, leaving the rest to Gladrielle in return for her keeping an eye on the house for me. I tearfully used my mother's tools to take the embroidered name of my dead lover off of the cloak and wrapped myself in it.

As I headed out the door, I glanced back. I didn't know if I would see this house or even this village again. I didn't know much about the outside world. I didn't even know where I would find Gresk Lion's Paw. I did, however, know where my journey would start. I had heard my mother mumbling in her sleep about past deeds she had committed in a large coastal city. I was headed to that city. I was headed to Waterdeep.


	4. Chapter 3

One of the disadvantages of living in such a secluded community is that it's, well, secluded.

"Sylk, that's kind of obvious," you might be thinking.

But you have to understand that going anywhere from Kithkara was more than just a trip. It was an adventure in itself. Like all good adventures, it had dangers.

Not seven hours after I had set out from my childhood home, I heard screams coming from up the road. After walking for a few minutes, I began to smell smoke. Thinking that this might be the work of my father, I ran towards the source.

Just over a hill, my eyes came to rest upon a small village of twelve or so houses. As I believed, it was burning. Much to my chagrin, it seemed to be the work of common brigands.

As they ran from building to building, their bags seeming to become more and more full, I realized that they were extremely skinny, nearly malnourished. It wasn't a malicious attempt to cause pain to others, but rather a last ditch effort to survive. These men needed food or else they would surely starve to death.

I ran towards one of the buildings, where I found one of the brigands dead; presumably from a mixture of not having eaten and smoke inhalation. As I looked upon this sad, wretched man, my body began to shift. I took his form and switched my clothes for his, stuffing my own possessions in his bag to hide any trace of my own identity. I took what he had already gained from his "enterprising" along with a few more items from the house I was in. They left it here to burn down, so they didn't need any of it, right? I went with the rest of the brigands back to their cam to eat and check over our spoils.

Looking into the bag I had, I saw food (which they obviously needed more than I did), a few odds and ends, some books, and a small leather pouch. Opening the pouch revealed a handful of valuable looking gems.

Thinking quickly, I offered to trade some of my food for the non-edible items that the others had collected. Acting on instinct (and their empty stomachs), they practically threw anything that they couldn't feasibly eat at me and scrambled to pick up what little food I tossed out of my bag. While they were fighting over the salted meats and various fruits, I did a quick scan of all of my loot. I could probably fetch a nice amount of gold for these things! I slipped out, grabbing a few more items on the way, and continued on my way.

If it was going to be this easy to make money out here in the "real world", I knew that I would do rather well with the training my mother had given me.

The thought of my mother brought feelings of rage and despair to the front of my mind, and I chose to focus on these feelings. They made me feel powerful. Alive. I was going to use my skills and my "natural gifts" to make a name for myself in Waterdeep. With a renewed vigor, I broke into a run, eager to reach my destination.

After assuming the form of a child (to appear innocent and trustworthy) and catching a ride (lying being one of my strong suits) with some rather agreeable merchants (who "lost" a bit of merchandise along the way), I made it to Waterdeep (with some "found" merchandise).

I made my way to what seemed to be a market district and began to sell off everything I didn't need. I sold a few weapons, some of the gems, and even a pair of magical boots I picked up on my way through the market. All in all, I managed to gain enough money to buy a suit of mithral chain mail with a glamour enchantment on it. I made the investment because I'm lazy, and I was tired of changing clothes to match the physical form I was taking.

On my way out of the market, a group of kids picked my pocket. These ruffians had no idea what they were in for. I stalked them through the market until I noticed one of them breaking away from the group.

He went into an alleyway and was looking at his day's earnings. I began to run at him, but stopped short. In a moment of shear genius, I switched my form and armor to match someone who's reputation I wasn't afraid of hurting.

Gresk Lion's Paw hurtled down the alleyway at the child, who immediately dropped his bags and skittered down a sewer drain. I scooped up the loot and resumed my traditional human form before leaving the alley.

Tired from the day's pilfering, I decided to check into an inn for the night. The nearest one I could see was called the "Wet Goat". The name wasn't promising, but I'd slept in worse. I paid my three silver and retired to my room.

It seemed like I had just shut my eyes when I awoke to a figure standing over me. Actually, it was several figures. I was about to spring into action when I felt a prick on my arm. The last thing I remembered was a sinister, crooked smile on a dark skinned man as I slipped deep into unconciousness.

Those of you who have had the great fortune of meeting me know that I don't like to exaggerate. Well, much, anyway. So when I tell you that I awoke in one of the most depressing places I had ever had the misfortune of waking in, you should take my meaning. The walls were a dingy gray stone. The floor wasn't any different, save for the moldy straw "mattress" I found myself on. There was only one other figure in the room, and I couldn't see very well. It seemed to be a child, curled up into a ball on a similar bed across the room from me. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was shivering. I removed what little clothing my captors had seen fit to leave me with and placed it on the small child.

All at once, a few things happened. The child sprang from the bed and threw a handful of straw into my eyes. I screamed in anger and began to swing wildly, attempting to subdue the little creep. He dodged my blows with ease, giggling maniacally. His voice seemed to be a bit deeper than any child I had ever heard before.

"You great boob, what are you playing at?" he yelled at me.

"I thought you were a shivering child so I covered you. Had I known it would elicit this kind of response, I'd have throttled you instead," I said through clenched teeth, trying not to hurt this little man.

"That's what they want, idiot! They try to find your "weaknesses" and exploit them to get what they want!" he said to me, as if I were an infant.

"Who are they? Why am I here? And who in the Nine Hells are you?" my mind was reeling with questions.

As he began to answer my questions, I was able to make out a little more detail. He had the figure of a child, but with some form of strange facial hair I had never seen on one so small. He was clothed in rags, much like myself when I awoke, but all of his seemed to be shades of purple. He had a glimmer in his eyes which screamed of mischief and a faint musical quality to his words.

"Ok, now you're thinking a bit more clearly," he whispered, throwing me my clothes. "They are servants of the Tyrant, Bane. You are here because you have a skill that they believe will be useful in a slave. And, as for me, I'm shocked and appalled that you don't recognize me! I am the one, the only, the Amazing Scraath! Bard Extraordinaire! Surely that rings a bell?"

"I don't know who you are. I've never heard of you. But I have a feeling we're going to have to work together if we want to get out of this alive," I whispered back to him.

"Aye, lad, that we will," he said with a crooked grin.

I didn't know it then, but I had just made an alliance that would follow me for all of my days to come. For better or for worse. Usually for worse…


	5. Chapter 4

This little man explained that he was a gnome, not a malnourished human as I had originally thought. He told me a tale about how he had gotten stuck here. I knew he was lying about most of it so I returned the favor, spinning a yarn about how farm life wasn't cutting it for me and that I wanted bigger and better things. He seemed to buy it.

"You've still not told me your name, farm boy," he said with a tinge of distrust in his voice.

"The name is Enfitch, Abercromby Enfitch," I replied off-handedly, using the name I had come up with for my human form.

"That's nice, 'farm boy'," he said, sliding his hand into his rags to scratch at some unseen itch.

Suddenly, I had a sliver of metal pressed to my throat as rage filled the gnome's face.

"If you were truly a farm lad, they would have no use for you here. You would have been sent to work in one of the slave encampments. This means that you are either a spy, sent by them to break my spirits, or an idiot who thinks that the greatest gnomish bard to ever live can't see through a simple lie! I sincerely hope you are a spy, for I haven't had my fill of blood today. Now, I suggest you start at the beginning and tell me the truth this time, lest your pretty head should fall off your pretty shoulders!" he was screaming at me, but his mouth wasn't moving. It appeared that his voice was directly inside of my head.

So I told him the truth. As much of it as I cared to, anyway. We continued the internal dialogue until he was satisfied with my responses.

"Sylk, is it? That's an odd name for a half elf. You seem to favor your father in looks more than your mother," he commented flippantly.

"You'd do well not to speak of things you know nothing of, ankle biter!" I screamed at him, the memories of my freshly deceased mother flooding my brain.

Scraath screamed in rage at my comment about his height. His mouth foaming, he lunged at my throat. I took this time to shift my form into that of my father, catching the bard off guard. I threw him to the side and went back to my side of the room.

"Try that again, and it will be your head which rolls, gnome," I snarled before resuming my form as Abercromby.

"Ah, now I see it," he said with the glimmer returning to his eyes, "You are a most useful prize to them after all! Assuming they know what they've caught…"

"There is a chance that they don't know what I can do?" I asked eagerly. If they thought I was a mere human, they would transfer me to one of these slave encampments Scraath was talking about. I knew I could escape from there with ease.

"They'd not have caught you and brought you here if they believed that you were ordinary. I see what you're getting after. Forget it, boy. They would just as soon kill you as transfer you. You're much better off working with me until we can figure a way to get us both out of here. What are you, anyways? Some kind of wizard?"

"No. I was telling you the truth. My mother was living in an elven community when my father, a human, raped her. She wasn't an elf. She was a doppelganger. That makes me a changeling."

"Useful is what that makes you! Was that great beast of a man you showed me a minute ago your father?"

"Yes. That was Gresk Lion's Paw."

"Aye, that'll come in handy indeed!" he seemed to already be formulating a plan in his mind.

A sound outside our cell alerted me, and I motioned for Scraath to be quiet. I could hear guards coming. I dashed for my bed, shooing the gnome towards his. He caught on and we were "asleep" when the guards came in. They grabbed me by the arms and hauled me out into the hallway. I could hear Scraath's protests as they dragged him along, too.

He suddenly grew quiet, and I dared a peek. They had knocked him unconscious and stuffed him into a burlap bag unceremoniously. I noticed that each of these men indeed wore the symbol of the Overlord Bane. I grew worried for my safety and that of my unlikely new friend as we drew closer to a set of opulent doors.

The guards standing outside our apparent destination nodded at our captors and opened the doors. Inside was a room which seemed quite out of place in the dreary surroundings outside. The walls were an elegant black marble with gold filigree inlay. Every seating area was covered in lush silks and crushed velvets. Perched next to a large throne was a black eagle. In the throne was a man who radiated evil and commanded respect from anyone in his presence.

"Ah, I see my valued guests have arrived. Please, have a seat," the man, who upon closer inspection was covered from head to toe with the symbol of Bane, said with a sneer.

The guards practically threw me at one of the chairs, which I was able to avoid. I caught myself and sat with a flourish, giving every appearance of being quite at home among these ruthless men. They threw the motionless bag containing Scraath at me. I caught him with a bit of difficulty, but managed to make it look smooth.

"I see your talents are many, Mr. Enfitch," the man in the throne stated, his mood lightening. "My name is Wilhelm. I was once like you, poor, tired, a slave to my own weakness. My Lord, Bane, showed me the error of my ways. I shunned the weak Pelor and devoted myself to the Oppressor. I am going to give the two of you a chance to prove yourselves to my Lord. One chance. If you fail, you will be killed, for Bane has no use for weakness. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sire. I believe that I will be a valuable asset to the cause," I said, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "I wish only to be the strongest man in the room, so that those weaker than myself will fear and obey me."

"Very good," he replied. "Take this fine young man and his gnome to be processed, then give them back their belongings. Mr. Enfitch…"

"Yes, sire?" I answered.

"If I find out that you are in any way trying to deceive me, you will wish for death. Death will not come. You will experience true agony and live that way for the rest of your natural years."

I gulped silently and followed the guards, carrying the stirring form of Scraath.

They led me through a different set of doors and promptly grabbed me. They held me down and branded the symbol of Bane into my neck. I bit down a scream as the smell of searing flesh filled my nostrils, and knew that my gnome "friend" was next. I looked away as I heard Scraath's screams mingling with the laughter of the guards. I held an angry sneer on my face as the gnome looked at me as if I had betrayed him. We were ushered into yet another room where we received our belongings and scrolls, presumably containing our first assignments.

"Hey, farm boy," Scraath said to me as he donned his armor.

"What, ankle biter?" I replied.

"If I find a way out, I'm taking it. With or without you."

"As am I."

"Ok, just so that's clear," he said with a slight grin.

"Good luck, Scraath," I replied.

"To you as well, Sylk," he responded. "There's just one more thing."

"What might that be?"

"Watch your back," he whispered, sheathing his whip.


End file.
